


The Vitter Case

by MerrythePhouka



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Folklore, Gen, How Do I Tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29555811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerrythePhouka/pseuds/MerrythePhouka
Summary: So I decided to try my luck, translate some of my stories and share them here. Welcome to the world in my head!
Kudos: 1





	The Vitter Case

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, welcome to my original story! Hope you will like it... I apologise for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

"My cows are disappearin', noble lady," a sort of tipsy farmer complained as he heavily sat down on a bench. The young noblewoman opposite him pulled away a little. She secretly regretted asking about his wellbeing but still decided to give him a sympathetic smile.  
"I am sorry to hear that," she assured him, giving her bodyguard a side eye. He carefully nodded and lowered his hand to a dagger on his belt. If the villager tried something, he would pay with his own life. Altht so far it seemed like there was no ill intention, just the need to complain.  
"Imagine that, my lady, two whole cows in the last week! Gone. No trace, it's like they just vanished in the thin air."  
"That's strange," the countess muttered and drank from the cup a pretty dark haired barmaid left in front of her. She smiled. The local wine was exquisite… And the service was not bad either. For He sake of that she could survive hearing out some farmer's troubles. "Are there any highwaymen around here? Maybe they took your cattle."  
"Goodness no!" he gasped and quickly made a gesture that was probably supposed to bring him the protection of some local deity. Few locals at the nearby tables nodded in agreement. "Thanks gods, noble lady, we hav'nt got any highwaymen here for a hundred years. They say the woods here are full of the Hidden folk. N'one would last too long, living there."  
"Quite clear in that case!" a voice coming from the window laughed. Everyone who was listening turned around in that direction. At a small table there was a man sitting, at first glance dressed as a nobleman. His clothes were clean, from good quality and probably quite expensive material and the boots on his feet, propped on the chair opposite of him, were made from firm, quality leather. He had very light, in the lighting of the room most white seeming hair, braided in a complicated hairdo. He couldn't be older than thirty so his hair most likely didn't go light with age, but he did not seem like an albino either.

"You want to tell us something, master herbalist?" a bearded man in blacksmith's apron asked. It looked like he only stopped here for one drink but he was already sitting in his corner for a whole hour.  
"Maybe," the young man shrugged. "And maybe I could even offer some advice."  
"Oh shush!" the farmer grimaced. "You wanderers just go on and on about the Hidden folk and magic but that won't bring my cows back!"  
"If only you listened to yourself," the herbalist sighed and shook his head, "you would realize the Hidden folk is most likely the cause of your trouble."  
The farmer started at him with his mouth open for a moment. Then he almost dropped the tankard with ale he was holding.  
"Damn it all!" He spat on the floor.  
"Hey, you go spit outside!" the barmaid yelled angrily.  
"And I suplo...spupo… I guess you know what I should do, huh?" The farmer continued, completely ignoring the barmaid.  
"I would like to hear that," the countess admitted and nodded towards the herbalist to prompt him to join her. The young man grinned widely and put his feet to the ground. At that moment the noble lady noticed the sole on his left boot was much thicker, but also much more worn off than the other one. He reached behind himself to grab something wooden that the countess thought to be a walking staff. In reality it turned out to be a carefully carved cane. He briskly hobbled to her table and sat down next to the farmer, on the spot her bodyguard showed him.  
"Have you ever heard of the vittra?"  
Noone in the inn answered. The barmaid just shook her head and murmured something about him telling fairytales again.  
"It is a name used for a certain group of the Hidden folk who live in the mountains far to the north. They tend to be invisible and they raise cattle on the mountain meadows. Their cows are large, well fed and give much more milk than usual. The vittra usually don't pay attention to people, unless someone builds a road or a house in their territory. In that case they start behaving in the same way anyone else of the Hidden folk would act in a similar case." The herbalist stopped talking for a moment and waved at the barmaid. She nodded and few minutes later returned with a cup of mead.  
"I hope you'll pay this time," she notes. He kept nodding until she handed him the cup.  
"I visited those parts about a year ago," the herbalist continued after drinking most of his mead. "And I met a farmer who had the same problem as you. Suddenly a couple of his cows vanished. One morning they were just gone without any trace. The boy who was supposed to watch just heard the sound of cow bells from time to time. I gave him the only advice I could - to wait."  
"Have you gone mad, herbalist?!" the farmer cried and almost spilled his ale again. Other guests murmured something in agreement. "Those cows are all I have for living! What would I do without them?!"  
"Let me finish at least, my good sir," the herbalist frowned. "The vitter didn't take those cows forever. They don't do that. All they do is borrow them and then give them back. You will have your cows in a couple of days and they will give more milk than ever before."  
The farmer shook his head in disbelief but did not answer. The bearded blacksmith was heard instead: "I sure hope you didn't make that up, master herbalist!"  
"Do I look like a liar?" the herbalist smiled as innocently as he could. The farmer, who apparently had enough (both beer and talking), got up and walked towards the barmaid to pay his bill, wobbling a little on his way there.  
"You look like a story teller," the countess noted.  
"I have seen quite a lot," the herbalist confirmed. "And I like to hear new stories and send them on their way myself."  
"Would you like to join my company? I would love to here some more stories."  
"That depends on where is your company going."  
"We are on our way to Casedell, I have a meeting with king Eurig."  
"In that case we are traveling in the same direction," the herbalist grinned. "I am actually on my way to the Tazal Woods for midsummer celebrations, but I plan to visit my sister in Casedell. So if you can bare my presence for a little bit longer, I will gladly join your company."  
"Wonderful. We will head out tomorrow after sunrise, there is a long way ahead of us."

The next morning, when a maid entered a barn to find two previously lost cows decorated with mountain flowers, both the herbalist and the countess with her escorts were already far on their way through the woods of the Hidden folk.


End file.
